


Try some Blank Honesty

by EtoileGarden



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Jealousy, Kissing, LDR, M/M, Referenced Sex, Talking Shit Out, Uni life, dick talk, hey 19 year olds are stupid, sarcastic boys, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 08:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14667180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: The thing was; Ronan knows he has nothing to be jealous of. Nothing at all. Nothing to be even vaguely worried about. So, he wasn’t worried, per se, but, he couldn’t quite convince himself not to be jealous.Definitely can’t quite convince himself not to be jealous when he rings Adam, (and honestly, it should be obvious that he wants to talk to Adam if it’s him calling) and it’s not Adam who answers, but Adam’s favourite study buddy; Eden.“Ronan Lynch!” he answers, very decidedly, not Adam, “I never thought I’d see the day when you rang!”





	Try some Blank Honesty

**Author's Note:**

> I should just cave and admit I'm going to write a MILLION little fics about Ronan and Adam figuring out how to do their relationship while long distance and at uni and shit like that.

The thing was; Ronan knows he has nothing to be jealous of. Nothing at all. Nothing to be even vaguely worried about. So, he wasn’t worried, per se, but, he couldn’t quite convince himself not to be jealous. 

 

Definitely can’t quite convince himself not to be jealous when he rings Adam, (and honestly, it should be obvious that he wants to talk to Adam if it’s him  _ calling _ ) and it’s not Adam who answers, but Adam’s favourite study buddy; Eden. 

 

“Ronan Lynch!” he answers, very decidedly, not Adam, “I never thought I’d see the day when you rang!” 

 

First of all; Eden is too loud. He’s like a mixture of Gansey and Henry’s exuberance mixed into one person and then squeezed out into an overly attractive body. Second of all, Ronan rings Adam, not much, but often enough that it shouldn’t be greeted with such shock. 

 

“Edam,” Ronan replies a little stiffly, “give me to Parrish.” 

 

“Adam’s off pissing,” Eden tells him bluntly, “he should be back in a minute. How’ve you been Roman?” 

 

“Busy,” Ronan grunts, “tell him to call me back when he’s fucking finished,” he adds, hangs up before he has to listen to Eden any longer. 

 

-

 

Adam doesn’t ring him back, and doesn’t ring him back, and doesn’t fucking ring him back, and it’s been two fucking hours no one pisses that long, so Ronan calls hims again. 

 

This time, thank fucking God, Adam answers. 

 

“Ro?” he says, sounds very surprised, “What’s up?” It sounds like he’s on the bus. 

 

“You never fucking called me back,” Ronan grunts. 

 

“Oh?” Adam says, then says something indecipherable off the phone to someone who Ronan can’t quite hear, but he’s willing to bet is Eden, “Sorry babe, we thought you meant after we’d finished for the day? That’s what Eden thought you said?” 

 

“Finished with what?” Ronan snaps. He can make out Eden’s voice in the background clamour now, and it’s pissing him off more than it ought.

 

“We’re working on that 50% assignment together, remember? We were out gathering info today-” 

 

In the background Eden says; “You mean drinking coffee at all the different cafes on main street-” 

 

Adam laughs, continues, “we’re just on our way back to mine now to do a write up. I’m on the bus for a bit though, so we can talk now.” 

 

“Nah,” Ronan says, “Call me when you’re actually fucking finished then,” he says, hangs up before Adam says bye, which he regrets as he does so. 

 

He texts Adam straight afterwards. 

 

-ttyl x

 

Adam replies

 

~ass xx

 

-

 

“Ok so,” Adam says, an hour and twelve minutes later when he rings back, “what are you grumpy about?” 

 

“I’m not fucking grumpy,” Ronan says, because he hadn’t originally been grumpy, “I’m calling to ask for your measurements for a jumper Blue’s making you.” 

 

Adam makes a noise that translates as; ‘I know you’re grumpy but because I love you I will pretend I believe you. For now at least.’ 

 

“And why is it that you’re the one calling asking for these measurements, and not Blue?” Adam says. 

 

“It’s a secret jumper,” Ronan says, casually, picks at a piece of bark caught in one of the rips in his jeans, “you’re not supposed to know about it but she needs your measurements anyway.” 

 

“Oh good job, secret keeper,” Adam drawls, “should I be offended that you don’t know my measurements off by heart?” 

 

“Well I did,” Ronan shoots back, almost offended himself that Adam thinks he doesn’t know every fucking inch of him. “But  _ someone _ had to go off and fucking grow more at university so now I’m not sure. I could’ve just told Blue how fucking big you used to be and then you could’ve gotten a crop top jumper, but whatever.” 

 

Adam laughs at him. It sounds like he’s in his room, at his desk, because Ronan can hear the faint hum of Adam’s ancient computer, paired with the vague clinking noises from one of the wind chimes Opal had made Adam out of bottle caps and semi precious stones which he had hanging in his window over his desk. 

 

“Ok,” Adam says eventually, “gimme a minute to find my tape measure and then I’ll give you my measurements.” 

 

Ronan grunts in reply. Pushes himself up off of the ground where he’d been sitting to pry a stone out of a sheep’s hoof before Adam had called. When the call finishes, he’s gonna have to fucking catch her again. She’s over by the fence, eying him up suspiciously, limping a little. Idiotic wool brain. 

 

“What’ve you been up to, today?” Adam asks amidst rustling, “Eden said you were busy?” 

 

Fucking Eden is also a wool brain. 

 

“Y’know,” Ronan says, “I think it was pretty fucking obvious that I asked Edam to ask you to call me after you finished having a shit.” 

 

“I was peeing,” Adam says, “and that’s not what he thought, so I dunno what to tell you babe. I’ve got the tape measure, you wanna grab a pen or something to write these down?” 

 

“I’ve got a brain,” Ronan grumbles, “I can remember them.” 

 

“Ronan,” Adam says. 

 

“Fine,” Ronan grunts, pulls his phone away from his ear, thumbs it into speakerphone, and opens up his notes app, “I’m writing it down,” he barks down at his phone.

 

Adam gives him measurements, Ronan writes them down.

 

“Don’t forget to act fucking surprised when you get your jumper,” Ronan says once he’s switched his phone back into a normal fucking phone and has it pinned between shoulder and ear while he half fends off, half scratches an interested sheep. She wants a lot more attention than he can give while he’s on the phone. 

 

“Obviously,” Adam snorts, “are you still coming up next weekend?” 

 

“Obviously,” Ronan snorts back, “nah, I’ve just changed my mind, I don’t want to see my fucking boyfriend, I’m gonna wash my hair or some other shit. Yes I’m coming.” 

 

“Just checking,” Adam says, “I’m looking forward to it.” 

 

See, definitely no reason to be jealous. 

 

“Also,” Adam says, “Eden says we should all actually hang out together this time, instead of just bumping into him while we’re out.” 

 

“Oh come on,” Ronan groans, “I thought our plan was to just stay in your room and fuck the whole time, now you have it to yourself?” 

 

“Come on now,” Adam chides cheerfully, “don’t be selfish babe, that can be a three person activity.” 

 

“It fucking won’t be though,” Ronan snaps, listens as Adam laughs. 

 

“I was thinking we could go to the pub down the road,” Adam says, “the one you like, y’know? With the cinnamon rolls and live irish waily music.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan says, because he does like that place, and would probably still like it even if he had to go there with Eden, “oi.” 

 

“Oi what?” 

 

“You were kidding, yeah?” Ronan snaps, “About it being a three person activity.” 

 

Adam makes a noise like a cat choking. “Yes,” he says, “of course. Idiot.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan says again, “look, I gotta go, fucking Blastoid has a stone in her fucking foot.” 

 

“Talk to you later,” Adam says. 

 

Ronan catches Blastoid. She doesn’t enjoy this anymore than he does. 

 

-

 

There are about a million reasons why Ronan regrets being peer pressured (or peer forced) by Henry and Blue together into making a facebook. Most of these reasons are because he keeps getting fucking friend requests from Aglionby students from his year. Like. If he hadn’t talked to them, or wanted to interact with them within school? Why the fuck would he then want to see or hear about their shitty lives outside of school? Another reason he hates it is because his fucking  _ friends _ put pictures up of him on their pages, and then other people see them and comment and are therefore far too aware of his existence as something more than a vague mystery. Most of what he hates though, is that currently at least half of Adam’s fucking feed is pictures and links from fucking Eden. 

 

Ronan loves seeing pictures of Adam. He does. He also loves that Adam is making friends, and having fucking fun, and doing shit that he wants to be doing. He just wishes he could be doing all of this with someone that wasn’t Eden, or at the very least, that Eden wouldn’t so blatantly brag about it on facebook.  It was all too much rubbing it in when he posted so often on Adam’s page. Like, who the fuck needs to see that he and Adam were at a bookstore? Not Ronan. In fact he’d prefer not to see that. Definitely would prefer not to see that Eden has his arm around Adam’s shoulders, and even though Adam isn’t even looking at the camera, too busy looking away from it at a book, he’s smiling contentedly. He looks like a fucking model. 

 

Mostly, Ronan thinks, he hates facebook so much because it makes it so much easier to be jealous, to be bitter. Also to stalk Eden’s page to see if he’s dating anyone, or if he’s dated guys in the past, or if there’s any indication that he has schemes to steal Adam out from under Ronan’s nose. He should just fucking delete his account. He doesn’t use it. But then Adam would be sad, and the fucking threesome of Blue, Henry, and Gansey would complain, and Matthew would go back to texting him all the links to random shit he thinks is funny instead of sending it via facebook which is an easier platform to follow internet links on. 

 

-

 

Calla turns up at his house the day before he plans to drive up to Adam’s university. She has a sour expression and a couple of cardboard boxes. 

 

“It’s getting colder,” Calla announces from her position leaning against her car as Ronan steps out of the front door. She looks and sounds like a prophet of doom. 

 

“No shit,” Ronan replies, makes his way down the front steps, “it’s almost winter. That’s what the weather fucking does.” 

 

“Your witch boyfriend’s grown out of all his winter clothes,” Calla says then, “Maura and Dean have some for you to take him.” 

 

There are multiple things that Ronan does not like about this. He bites down on all of them, stops at the foot of the stairs, and stares at Calla. 

 

“Also soups,” Calla continues, waves a languid hand at the boxes Ronan can see in the car’s backseat, “some crystals he was asking about, and a couple of books I think he might like that Persephone had in the recipe cupboard.” 

 

“Recipe books?” Ronan asks, he knows they won’t be. Calla just raises one arched eyebrow at him. 

 

“You have any spare eggs?” Calla asks, yanks open the backseat door and motions at the cardboard boxes for Ronan to take them, “I want to make a frittata tonight.” 

 

“There’s a supermarket on the way into town,” Ronan grunts, “yeah. I’ll grab you the overflow box.” 

 

“The hell do you do with overflow box when a friendly psychic doesn’t come to help out?” Calla asks, follows Ronan from the car back to the house. 

 

“Donate them,” Ronan grunts, “or Opal eats them. She likes them raw and shelled.” 

 

“She’s one weird little monster,” Calla says, “like you.” 

 

“Gee,” Ronan grumbles, “thanks, you’re totally fucking welcome for the eggs.” 

 

He puts the boxes down on the kitchen table, heads into the walk in pantry to grab the eggs. While he’s in there, Calla continues talking. 

 

“Wanna know what Maura’s latest ‘what are Blue’s idiot friends up to’ reading went?” 

 

“Not particularly,” Ronan grumbles, picking through the eggs to make sure none of them were cracked, or had been sucked dry secretly by Opal. 

 

“Well,” Calla says, turning a tap on loudly to help herself to a glass of water, “we’re  _ very _ glad to know that Adam is doing so well.” 

 

“He’s always doing well,” Ronan grunts, comes back out of the pantry, “it’s his thing.” 

 

“What do you know,” Calla snorts, “you’re only his boyfriend.” 

 

Ronan scowls at him. Calla appears to realise she’s cut deeper than she intended, because she shakes her head. 

 

“I’m sure you know him best,” she says, takes the eggs from him, “although it’s hard to know things when you’re here and he’s there and neither of you know how to communicate over distance.” 

 

“We manage,” Ronan says sharply. 

 

“You do,” Calla agrees, is already making her way back to the door, “and it’s good that he has other people where he is to know him as well. It’s very boring if the only people who  _ know _ you live hours away.” 

 

“Alright,” Ronan says, “I’m bored of you here saying vague things, go away now.” 

 

“I’m already leaving,” Calla scoffs. 

 

-

 

It isn’t that he’s insecure about his relationship. He isn’t. He knows he loves Adam, and Adam loves him, and blah blah blah. He knows that shit. But Calla is right that it’s hard to be properly connected when he’s here and Adam’s there, and instead, Adam will be connecting with other people. Other people like Eden who is the most annoying person on the face of the earth.

 

Part of him is reminding him that he wants Adam to have deep connections and good friendships and a fucking life apart from Ronan, because, obviously, but the very loud and uncomfortable part of his stomach is grumbling about how he wants to be the only person to  _ know _ Adam.  

 

He knows this makes him a little bit of an asshole. This is high up in the list of things he knows. 

  
  


-

  
  


Adam meets him at the car park, opens his door almost before he’s turned his car off, and just climbs right into the front seat on top of Ronan to kiss him hello, so Ronan closes the door behind him and kisses him hello right back until the steering wheel gets too uncomfortable. 

 

“Fuck,” Adam snorts as Ronan pulls out the boxes to pile onto Adam’s waiting arms, “how much shit did you bring with you? Are you planning on moving in?” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan grins, “surprise, your home is my home now, your blanket is my blanket.” 

 

“Fuck no,” Adam snorts, “I bought a new blanket specifically for your side of the bed so we don’t spend all night every night fighting over my one again.” 

 

“I wasn’t fighting you last time,” Ronan says, bending over the boot to grab his bag, “I was simply attempting to physically persuade you that you had all the fucking blanket.” 

 

“You know I didn’t,” Adam says, comes up behind Ronan so he can knee him in the ass, “you’re a blanket hog.” 

 

“Rude,” Ronan says, swings his bag over his shoulder, locks up the car, and follows Adam back up to his room. 

 

“The boxes are from the witches. Old clothes and tarot shit.” 

 

“God,” Adam says, “I told Maura I didn’t need more clothes.” 

 

he puts the boxes on the ground by his door while he fumbles with his keys, and Ronan leans in and taps the vast expanse of Adam’s bony wrist that’s poking out of his supposedly long sleeved shirt. 

 

“I would’ve believed you if you’d said that over the phone,” Ronan says, “because I’m not a physic, but Maura is, and I can fucking see half your arm, so, yeah, pretty obvious you’re lying, baby.” 

 

He’s cheating a little, because he knows Adam has the capacity to argue here about how this is just a hanging around shirt or something, but he also knows that if he tacks on a ‘baby’ then Adam is more likely to just pull him into his room and kiss him again. 

 

Which is what he does do next. 

 

The boxes are shoved to one side of the door, Ronan drops his bag on top of them, and Adam is on him quicker than whatever quick thing is quick. He doesn’t really have a mind for similes while Adam’s tongue is in his mouth and his hands are down the back of his pants. 

 

“Ha,” Ronan manages while Adam’s mouth is busy on Ronan’s neck instead, “I thought you weren’t keen on the ‘fucking all weekend’ plan.” 

 

“Ha,” Adam mumbles back into Ronan’s skin, deftly tugging Ronan’s pants down, “I never said that.” 

 

“Oh fuck,” Ronan groans, “oh - oh fuck - Adam-” 

 

-

 

They don’t really get much done for the first few hours, which is fine, because they didn’t have any plans to get anything done, but it means that when Adam’s phone rings, Ronan all of a sudden feels like they’ve run out of time. 

 

“Mm,” Ronan grumbles, holding onto Adam by his waist, “no, don’t leave me, just ignore it-” 

 

“Babe,” Adam snorts, allows Ronan to hold him back for long enough to lean in and kiss him again, “I’ll come right back, loser.” 

 

“Ugh,” Ronan concedes, releases Adam, and flops back against the messy pile of bedding to watch Adam cross the room to the bedroom doorway where all their clothes are strewn, and Adam’s phone is yelling at him from. 

 

It’s a good view, all long and tan and freckled. It’s ruined a half moment later though when Adam actually answers the phone, which is not a good use for his hands, quite honestly. 

 

“Eden,” he says cheerfully, pauses, laughs, “yeah,” he says, “nah, fuck off we’re finished, you gross shit. What’s up?” 

 

Ronan feels very explicitly like someone else has joined them in the room and is currently looking at him all naked and sweaty and finding it funny. He does not appreciate this. He tugs at the sheet screwed up beneath him, pulls it up over his legs, tucks it under his chin. 

 

“I’ll ask,” Adam is saying, his back is to Ronan, but he’s glancing over his shoulder at him to smile, “but I think we’ll probably stay in tonight. -- Yeah. I’ll text you.” 

 

He hangs up. Stays there in the doorway for a few moments doing something on his phone, then crosses back over to the bed and flops down next to Ronan. 

 

“What’s up with your face?” he asks cheerfully, drops the phone down on the mattress and reaches up to prod Ronan in the cheek, “You’ve gone all stormy.” 

 

“Nothing,” Ronan says, “my face is just fine. What did Eddy want?” 

 

Adam ignores this obvious misnaming, shifts so he can hook his leg around Ronan’s through the sheet. “He wants to know if we wanna go to a quiz at the uni bar tonight,” he says, presses his head against Ronan’s chest, “apparently it’s on astronomy and he thinks I would wreck it.” 

 

“Wanna go?” Ronan asks, tugs at Adam until he’s entirely on top of Ronan, “because I’ll sit in the corner and drink shitty beer and cheer you on if you wanna go.” 

 

Adam snorts, kisses at Ronan’s chest. “Fuck off,” he says, “of course I don’t want to go; you just got here. I want to order pizza and stay naked for the rest of the day so I can double, and triple, and quadruple check I know exactly what your cock looks like.” 

 

“So fucking romantic,” Ronan sneers, feels like his heart is melting like an icecube in lava, “I can’t say I’m against this, though.” 

 

“Good,” Adam says, “because I’ve been looking forward to just fucking hugging you for a fortnight now.” 

 

In moments like these, Ronan absolutely does not feel jealous. There isn’t any way he can feel jealous. Not only does he know he has nothing to be jealous about, he can feel it as well. So there, he tells his stupid fucking brain, so fucking there. Eden has no fucking standing in this. 

  
  


-

  
  


“So,” Adam says, much later, as he’s unpacking the boxes Ronan had brought with him, “how’s Blue’s jumper coming along?” 

 

“I can’t tell you that,” Ronan says, “it’s a secret, remember?” 

 

“You’re awful,” Adam says flatly, “I haven’t grown that much, have I?” 

 

“You have,” Ronan says, “I swear you’re a good couple of inches taller than last time I saw you and it’s not even been a month. What the fuck is up with that?” 

 

“You jealous?” Adam asks, smirking, and Ronan just stares at him a moment. Then shakes his head. 

 

“No,” he says, “I don’t want to have to fucking buy new clothes. You better stay just a little shorter than me, though.” 

 

“How come?” Adam asks, abandons the box on the floor and struts over to where Ronan is sprawled inefficiently on the dining table chair, “you need to be taller than me?” 

 

“Well yeah,” Ronan says, grabs Adam by the hips and tugs him a bit closer, “I know that’s like my number one sexy factor.” 

 

“Hm,” Adam says, obliges Ronan by straddling his lap, “I’ve always had a thing for shorter people, honestly,” he teases, which is not helpful. 

 

“Huh,” Ronan says, “like Blue, then?” 

 

“Sure,” Adam says, “but I also have more of a thing for you,” he adds, “so I don’t really give a fuck how tall you are.” 

 

“Shorter like Eden?” Ronan persists, “He’s like - he’s a bit shorter than you, yeah?” 

 

Adam raises his eyebrows, “Sure,” he says again, “you don’t really think your height is the sexiest thing about you, do you?” 

 

“Hm,” Ronan says, “I can pretend I do if you’re gonna respond by telling me all the other sexy things about me.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, grins, “I can do that.” 

  
  


-

  
  


Adam ignores Ronan’s occasional sour patches until the following afternoon when he brings up going to the pub with Eden. 

 

“Ah!” Adam says, points at Ronan, which is really quite a useless action when you’re sitting on top of the person you’re pointing at. “I knew it.” 

 

“Knew what?” Ronan scowls, or rather, he was already scowling, so he simply deepens his scowl. 

 

“Everytime I bring Eden up,” Adam says, shifting in Ronan’s lap so he can see him better, “your face goes all world war three. What’s up with that?” 

 

“He’s annoying,” Ronan says flatly. 

 

“You’ve met him once,” Adam says, “for five minutes.” 

 

“And he was annoying,” Ronan repeats. 

 

“Nah,” Adam shakes his head, “your annoyed face is at least three levels less deadly than whatever face you’ve been pulling, so? What the fuck is up with that? Are you still pissed off that I didn’t call you back quick enough the other week?”

 

Ronan’s scowl would probably win awards at scowl offs. 

 

“Yes,” he says truthfully, and Adam rolls his eyes before he can say anything else. 

 

“That was a mistake,” Adam says, “he feels bad about it-” 

 

“I’m not pissed off because he made a  _ mistake _ ,” Ronan grumbles, “I’m pissed off because I think he did it on purpose.” 

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Adam snorts, “why would he do that?” 

 

“Because,” Ronan grits out, “he didn’t want me to talk to you.” 

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Adam says again, climbs out of Ronan’s lap to perch himself on the arm of the shabby armchair they’re sitting in instead. “Why the fuck wouldn’t he?” 

 

“Because he wants to get with you,” Ronan says blankly to the opposite wall. 

 

Adam doesn’t say anything for a few moments. It seems like he needs to parse what Ronan’s said. 

 

“He definitely has a fucking crush on you,” Ronan barrels on, “it’s obvious just over facebook; all the photos he posts, and all the fucking links he sends you, and he’s always doing fucking  _ heart emojis _ or whatever, and sure, I’ve not spent much time with him, but I can fucking tell that he doesn’t like me either because-” 

 

“Stop,” Adam groans, “God, what the fuck, Lynch?” 

 

Ronan stops, grits his teeth as Adam gets up off of the chair. 

 

“Eden doesn’t like me like that,” Adam says firmly, “and even if he did? I have a boyfriend, and he knows that, so-” 

 

“I don’t think he cares so much, I’m long distance anyway,” Ronan says loudly, “he probably thinks it doesn’t count.” 

 

Adam stares at him. 

 

“I care,” Adam says back, louder, “I’m not going to fucking cheat on you, Lynch, is this what this is about? You think I’m going to cheat on you-” 

 

“No,” Ronan snaps, “God, no. it’s not  _ you _ I’m worried about here-” 

 

“It’s gotta be a bit me you’re worried about,” Adam snaps back, “because you wouldn’t be fucking worried unless you though I would reciprocate his feelings or some shit-” 

 

“I’m not worried,” Ronan says, “I’m not - I’m - I’m not fucking worried about you doing some shit, I fucking trust you Adam-” 

 

“But you don’t trust my friends?” 

 

“No,” Ronan bites out, “just not him.”

 

“Lemme get this straight,” Adam says stiffly, “you’ve met my friend for five minutes, in which he was perfectly nice to you, and then, because - what? Because I spend most of my time with him because we have more than half the same classes together, you think he has something for me? And you think that I would be friends, fucking good friends, with someone who would try and ruin my relationship to be with me? What? Do you think he’d succeed? Like, what is your huge fear here, Lynch, you think because he’s… short, he’ll seduce me away from you?” 

 

Adam’s speaking like this is all a huge joke, completely out of the realm of possibility. 

 

“Yes,” Ronan says, “yes.” 

 

“The fuck?” Adam says, “What?” 

 

Ronan drags his feet up onto the edge of the armchair, wraps his arms around his knees, tries to keep his voice at a reasonable level as well as steady. 

 

“I’m not stupid,” he says, “I know that’s not going to happen. You… just up and leaving me, even if everyone else here is more educated, and better equipped to fucking meet your...needs or whatever, and  _ closer _ . Doesn’t mean the idea of it doesn’t fucking scare me half the fuck to death though.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says slowly, “this isn’t actually about Eden, then?” 

 

“No,” Ronan snaps, clears his throat, “it is also about Eden.” 

 

“Because you think he likes me.” 

 

“Because he does like you,” Ronan persists, and Adam sighs, drags his hand through his hair, but comes back to perch on the side of the armchair again. 

 

“Ok,” he says, “so, if he does like me, or, no - I guess it doesn’t matter if he does or not. What do you want us to do about this? What do we do here, babe?” 

 

“What?” Ronan asks. 

 

“I mean,” Adam says, “obviously I don’t want you fucking paranoid and upset everytime I hang out with him, and it sounds like you are going to be whether or not he actually does have a thing for me-”

 

“Well now you’re making me sound like an asshole,” Ronan grits out. 

 

“I’m not trying to,” Adm grits right back, “I’m trying to figure out what the fuck we’re supposed to do in a scenario that I think is completely stupid but am willing to change something for because I don’t want you upset.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “yup, making me sound like an asshole.” 

 

“You are an asshole,” Adam snaps, “God, Lynch. Can you please just - God. I’m not trying to fight you. Why can’t you fucking get that through your thick skull?” 

 

“Because it’s thick!” Ronan says, “And I don’t take being placated very well because I’m not a smarmy uni kid.” 

 

“Ronan,” Adam says, “shut the actual fuck up with that nonsense.” 

 

Ronan shuts the fuck up with his valid points. Shifts his knees at Adam’s pushing to let Adam climb back into his lap. Shuts his eyes and presses his head into the back of the chair. 

 

“First of all,” Adam says, “I don’t appreciate you even implying that my boyfriend isn’t smart as fuck. We both know that’s not true. I don’t give a damn that you don’t go to uni, I don’t think that makes you any less than anyone else here. I never have, I never will. Is that clear?” 

 

Ronan nods. 

 

“Secondly,” Adam continues, “yeah, it’s hard as  _ shit _ being far away from you so often, yeah, of course i’m going to get fucking lonely without you, no of fucking course not does that mean I’m ever gonna cheat on you-” 

 

“That’s not-” Ronan begins. 

 

“I know that’s not what the issue is here,” Adam interrupts, “but I wanna make sure you know that. So. I love you. End of story. Clear?” 

 

Ronan nods. 

 

“I don’t think,” Adam says slowly, “I don’t think Eden has any romantic feelings for me, but I’m willing to admit that I might be wrong. I don’t know. I want to know what you want me to do about this. Not because this is all on you, but because I honestly don’t know. This is… obviously something that’s been on your mind for a while, and I’ve never even considered it. So, thoughts?” 

 

“I don’t want,” Ronan mumbles, “I don’t want you to have to stop being friends with Eden. That’s not what I want.” 

 

“Well,” Adam says, “good. What, then?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Ronan admits, well aware that he probably ought to know, “I - I think I spent too long being… feeling shitty about what I was feeling to actually get further into the thought than that I didn’t like it.” 

 

“Useful,” Adam says dryly. He’s suddenly cupping Ronan’s face, hands cold against Ronan’s emotion flushed skin, “ok, he says, “babe. Do you want me to cancel drinks with him tonight?” 

 

“No,” Ronan sighs, tips his head down so he can press his face more into Adam’s hands, “no - I - you’re right that I barely know him-” 

 

“You don’t have to like him,” Adam says, “but I would prefer it if your dislike of him was based on having met him, not just from what you see on facebook and what distance makes you feel.” 

 

“You sound like a fucking psychic witch lady,” Ronan grumbles, lifts his hands to grip at the front of Adam’s shirt, “all otherworldly knowingy.” 

 

“I’m just being sensible,” Adam snorts, “and look - I’ll - I’ll pay more attention. To whether or not he’s flirting, ok?” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “I guess I’ll try not to be a bitch about it.” 

 

“I don’t want this to be a thing you’re scared of,” Adam says then, leans in to press his lips against the ridge of Ronan’s cheekbone, “I want us to be happy.”

 

Ronan’s insides writhe with the blank honesty. 

 

“I love you,” he says instead of trying to address this, “I’m sorry this got all shitted up.” 

 

“You’re a bit of an idiot,” Adam tells him, “how long have you been winding yourself up about this instead of just talking to me?” 

 

“Too long,” Ronan admits, runs his hand down along Adam’s wrist, then up his arm to cup Adam’s nape, “maybe a couple of months. Since I met him. I guess.” 

 

“You’re an idiot,” Adam reiterates, “God, babe.” 

 

“I know,” Ronan grumbles, “I’ll fucking talk to you sooner if there’s a fucking next time, ok?” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “kiss me?” 

 

-

 

He is, for lack of a better word (or lack of the brain capacity to think of a better word), pleased that he’s told Adam about this shit. Not that this is really any solid shit to be telling. It’s all just uncomfortable, stomach aching, marrow itching kind of shit that he can’t really point at and go, ‘there, look, the facts you enjoy being presented’. The kind of shit that makes him feel like an asshole because he knows that now Adam is also feeling that weird itchy marrow kind of feeling of not having facts as well as doubting someone who he’s close to. 

 

Part of Ronan wants him to be entirely wrong. To meet up with Eden tonight and realise how much of a jealous asshole he is because Eden is simply friendly and nice and likes to share with the world via facebook how much he likes Adam in a purely friendly and nice platonic way. 

 

Another part of Ronan wants all his worries to be confirmed, for Eden to be absolutely attempting (hopefully badly) to seduce Adam, and Adam will realise this too and cut Eden out of his life.

Another part of him is extremely pissed off and embarrassed about the part of him that is hoping this. 

 

The last part of Ronan, which is the part piloting his body, is simply hoping that he can get through the night without being too much of an asshole, and he’s planning on doing that by clinging onto Adam’s hand for dear life. 

 

This, apparently, means that he’s not regulating the rest of his body, which is what Eden comments on as soon as they walk up to the table he’s holding for the three of them. 

 

“Hey!” He greets them cheerfully, “Yikes,” he continues, “is Roman coming straight from a biker funeral?” 

 

“Yes,” Ronan replies immediately, “my cousins.” 

 

“Oh fuck,” Eden says, watches as Adam smacks Ronan over the back of the head, and then laughs a little awkwardly, “thank God that was a lie.” 

 

“This is just how he looks,” Adam says, tugging out a stool to sit down on and attempting to release himself from Ronan’s grip, “I like to think of it as farmer grunge.” 

 

“I think you’re thinking punk grunge, maybe,” Eden suggests as Ronan sits down, still holding onto Adam’s hand. “How’re you guys doing?” 

 

“Good,” Adam volunteers after a few moments of Ronan not saying anything, “you?” 

 

“Yeah,” Eden shrugs, “I don’t have a live in boyfriend currently so I doubt I’m doing as good as you. But good enough. I’m gonna grab a jug for the table, that good with you guys?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, waits until Eden’s disappeared off to the bar, and then turns to Ronan. “This is gonna be easier if you use your words,” he says flatly, squeezes at Ronan’s fingers. 

 

“I know,” Ronan grunts out, “I’m not fucking good with new people at the best of times, though.” 

 

“I know,” Adam says easily, “just - I talk about you all the time, you know?” he says, seemingly off topic. Ronan stares at him. “All the fucking time,” Adam continues, “it’s half of what I talk about to Eden. I’m always starting sentences like, ‘Ronan sent me this photo today’, or like, ‘Oh yeah I think  _ this _ because Ronan says-’, like, I just - he’s heard so much about you. I want him to get to properly meet you too.” 

 

“So he can see I’m as cool as you say I am?” Ronan smirks. 

 

“I’ve never once said you were cool,” Adam grins, leans in to kiss him quickly, “Eden’s heard all about why I love you, I want him to see why too. So, like, even if he does-” he drops his voice very low here, “- _ like _ me, there’s no way he’d want to do anything about it because I have you.” 

 

“Hm,” Ronan says, wants another kiss, so he leans in to take one. “I think most people who know us are confused as to why you like me, so I dunno how you think a couple of hours with Eden will prove anything.” 

 

“Don’t be dumb,” Adam says, “the people who matter can see.” 

 

-

 

Things don’t immediately start going perfectly, obvious, Ronan still doesn’t appreciate people who he isn’t used to talking to, Eden is still fucking annoying, but they manage to actually talk to each other without Ronan feeling like he’s going to self combust. The beer helps. The beer helps until Adam squeezes Ronan’s hand and announces that he needs to go pee. He’s very obviously, silently, asking if Ronan wants to come with, but Ronan doesn’t want to look like the kind of boyfriend who not only has to hold hands the entire time, but also has to go everywhere with their partner, so he shakes his head instead, and Adam goes to the bathroom by himself leaving Ronan and Eden alone. 

 

“So,” Eden says brightly after a few moments of beer filled silence, “now he’s gone, we can talk about him!” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, then the beer inside Ronan says, “do you like him?” 

 

“What?” Eden laughs, “Of course I like him, my grades and my social life have never been better.” 

 

“No,” Ronan snaps, and now it’s definitely Ronan snapping, he can’t blame the beer, “I mean, do you  _ like _ him.”  This is probably falling under the ‘being a little bitch about it’ category. 

 

“Oh,” Eden says, and to Ronan’s absolute horror, is beginning to look a little flushed, a little abashed. “Oh.” 

 

“Oh,” Ronan says, “fuck, huh?” 

 

This is the moment in which he does not feel jealous at all, in the slightest. He just feels a little embarrassed. For Eden and for himself who’s asking this stupid question. 

 

Eden’s lifting one shoulder up in a half shrug, staring down at his half empty glass. 

 

“It’s just a crush,” he defends himself, “there’s no way I would - first of all, he’s head over heels for you, and second,” he continues, “there’s no way he would ever look at me like that when he’s so - so-” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, very shocked at himself at the words coming out of his mouth, “that’s what I thought too. Not to get it twisted though,” he adds sharply, “I’m definitely not fucking saying you have a chance with him.” 

 

Eden laughs bitterly, “I know,” he says, “I’m sorry,” he mumbles to his beer, “you won’t tell him, will you? It’s nothing serious. I know this must be pretty shitty for you to hear, but you won’t tell him? I’m not going to-” 

 

“I already did,” Ronan says, feels as shitty as Eden sounds, “he didn’t really believe it, if that helps.” 

 

“Oh,” Eden says again. The shittiness feeling continues. 

 

“Is that why you don’t like me?” Ronan asks, figures if he’s being a dick, he may as well continue asking dick questions, “Because you’re jealous that I’m with Adam?” 

 

“I don’t dislike you,” Eden protests, finally looks up from his beer, “sure I’m jealous as fuck, in a vague non-committal kind of way that I’m jealous of anyone who dates like… celebrities, but I don’t dislike you. You dislike me.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan snorts, stupidly feels like that’s not even true anymore, “because I was fucking jealous.” 

 

“Oh,” Eden says. It’s kind of his catchphrase apparently. 

 

“You’re not trying to fucking… seduce him?” Ronan demands, watches as Eden blushes more. Ronan hadn’t pinned him as a blusher, but neither had he pinned any of what was happening. 

 

“No,” Eden gets out, “fuck no. I'm not - No.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, downs the rest of his beer. “Ok, cool. Sorry, man.” 

 

Eden snorts, upends his beer glass, “Right,” he says after he swallows, “cool. Now we’ve got  _ that  _ shit out of the way.” 

 

“Guess we can be friends now,” Ronan says, “or frenemies if you like, I have too many friends and not enough frenemies.” 

 

“God,” Eden says, “I mean, I guess either of those options was my plan for tonight anyway.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “good. I think we need more alcohol. Whiskey, not beer.” 

 

“Agreed,” Eden says, “100%. You’re buying. I know how rich you are.” 

 

“Fine with me,” Ronan snorts, “saves me from cheap ass gross whiskey. I’m gonna buy the fucking most expensive bottle and you are recruited to stop Adam complaining.” 

 

“Ok,” Eden says, puts his head on the table, “I can do that.” 

 

“Good,” Ronan says, gets up. “Look,” he says, very awkwardly, “I’ve been an asshole,” he says, “maybe a little purposefully.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Eden says, waves his hand vaguely, “Adam’s only told me a hundred times that you’re the biggest asshole he knows.” 

 

“Yeah I am,” Ronan says, “ok. Whiskey.” 

 

-

 

He comes back with the bottle and the glasses of ice to find Adam back at the table. 

 

“Eden informs me I’m not allowed to complain,” Adam says in greeting, “what am I complaining about?” 

 

“You’re not complaining,” Ronan reminds him, holds up the whiskey before putting it down on the table, “nice shit?” 

 

“I was peeing,” Adam says, rolls his eyes, tugs Ronan down onto his seat, “what did you guys talk about while I was gone?” 

 

“We’ve decided to be frenemies,” Ronan says seriously, uncaps the whiskey, “two or three shots?” he asks Eden. 

 

Eden holds up four fingers. 

 

“Frenemies?” Adam asks, looks from Ronan to Eden, to the four fingers of whiskey being poured. “Why?” 

 

“Because I won the dating Adam Parrish lottery,” Ronan says, pushes the over full glass over to Eden, “and because I can’t really call Henry my frenemy anymore so I’m running a little low on them.” 

 

“Oh-kay,” Adam says slowly, watches as Eden drinks at least two fingers of the whiskey in one mouthful, “should I be worried?” 

 

“No,” Eden rasps, clears the alcohol burn from his throat, “nope, we’re good.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says again, “well. I’m… glad?” 

 

“Whiskey?” Ronan asks Adam. 

 

Adam gives him his look. 

 

“Only brought two glasses anyway,” Ronan grins, pours his shot. 

  
  


-

  
  


Ronan isn’t entirely sure he can accurately relate the events of last night. He is reasonably certain that at one point, about half way down the bottle of whiskey, he had offered Eden one (1) kiss from Adam, and Eden had quite emotionally turned it down while Adam put his head on the table. He’s also pretty sure he had gotten all ragey when the live music had turned up and it wasn’t a  _ real _ Irish band. Something, something, he’d gotten up very insistent that he could do a better job. Than he was in bed with Adam.  He groans loudly to make his consciousness and displeasure at his consciousness known. 

 

Adam grumbles at the noise, but rolls over so he’s not just presenting Ronan with his back, and holds his arm out instead. Ronan rolls into it, presses his face into Adam’s chest as if he’s hoping it will somehow ease his headache. 

 

“When’d we come home?” he asks into Adam’s chest, listens to Adam snort above him. 

 

“Not late,” Adam says, “before midnight. You guys were like fucking flowers, wilting with the sun.” 

 

“What the fuck is with the poetry,” Ronan says, “did we fuck when we got home?” 

 

“No,” Adam says, “you were fucking plastered.” 

 

“Oh,” Ronan says, wriggles uncomfortably against Adam’s chest, “my ass hurts like I fucking fell down a hill.” 

 

“Because you did fall down a hill,” Adam says dryly, reaches down Ronan’s body to cup his ass gingerly, “when we walked Eden home and you thought you saw a short cut.” 

 

“Oh,” Ronan says, “that makes a lot more sense.” 

 

“Yep,” Adam sighs, bends down to press a kiss to Ronan’s forehead, “how’re you feeling?” 

 

“Hungover as fuck,” Ronan says, “also a bit horny?” 

 

“Nope,” Adam says, “I’m not risking getting thrown up on again.” 

 

“C’mon,” Ronan wheedles, “that was once, and I wasn’t hungover than I was just-” 

 

“No one in their right mind pretends they don’t have food poisoning just because they want dick,” Adam says, “you dumbass. Panadol?” 

 

“Yes please,” Ronan says, “but don’t get out of bed.” 

 

“Not gonna,” Adam says, “I’m prepared.” He reaches out to the side, has to strain a little to stay in Ronan’s grip, but manages to grab the packet of pills and the bottle of water by the bed, “Here.” 

 

-

 

“Ok” Adam says, one - maybe three - hours later (no one keeps track of time while hungover and being cuddled by their boyfriend, ok?) after Ronan has finally been pried out of bed, showered, and is currently brushing his teeth while Adam leans against the bathroom doorway. “You asked Eden about his feelings about me?” 

 

Ronan chokes on his toothbrush, which is ridiculous, because he’s had much bigger things in his mouth. 

 

“Yes,” he says. 

 

“Right,” Adam sighs, rubs his hand through his hair, “do I wanna know?” 

 

“No,” Ronan says, truthfully, spits in the sink, “he has a crush on you.” 

 

“Ah,” Adam says. 

 

“But he’s not… he’s not gonna do anything about it. From what he said a few more drinks in it sounds like he has a crush on someone else too, so, no worries.” 

 

“You’re an idiot,” Adam says flatly. 

 

“Mhm,” Ronan says, rinses his mouth and spits again. 

 

“Am I supposed to be following up on this conversation with Eden?” 

 

“Oh,” Ronan says, puts his toothbrush back into the toothbrush cup, “no, it’s a secret.” 

 

“Like Blue’s sweater?” 

 

“Just like,” Ronan says, crosses the bathroom to Adam. “You mad?” 

 

“No,” Adam says, “I’m not. A little - surprised. Maybe. More surprised that  _ you’re _ so easy going about this.” 

 

“He’s not thinking he could have you,” Ronan says, wraps himself around Adam, “so I don’t care.” 

 

“You’re such a dick,” Adam tells him, slings his arms around Ronan’s waist and pulls him close, “let’s not ever do this again, ok?” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, presses his face against Adam’s neck, “I’m not gonna throw up on you now.” 

 

“You’re incorrigible,” Adam says, pulls apart enough to kiss him anyway. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! If you like my writing feel free to come yell at me on my Tumblr etoilearden.tumblr.com


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